Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 160578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 642(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 642(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
I do the one thing I’ve been wanting to since Luna told me about him. The best friend who managed to work his way into her head until she knew better. Bet he’s mad that he never got to hit it before I took her out.
I blow him a kiss.
Shutting out the outside noise, I find Moose in the rearview mirror. “Home?”
Years. I’ve spent years killing people. All sizes, genders, whatevers. I don’t discriminate when it comes to inhaling the rush of fear that they feed me while dying in my arms, but I know hers will poison me for life.
With a last glance, I find Lilith, Eli and Kyrin standing near the casket as it lowers to the ground. I didn’t have to fight to not have her buried on EKC land, since all three of them, Eli included, didn’t need any convincing. They wanted her as far away from Riverside as possible, opting for the Kiznitch crypt in New York.
Exactly where she belongs.
“Son, I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours.”
My tongue dampens my bottom lip. “I’m used to being the monster, Moose. The only difference, is now, they’re right.”
His eyes stay on mine before flicking back to the road ahead. “She was a special girl.”
I don’t want to talk about her.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I stare down at it as he drives us away from everyone, rereading the words over and over. Nothing sticks, everything wet with whiskey.
Days pass as fast as they come. No one arrives, no one calls, no one. Not a single person.
My front door slams closed, and I take the steps down, leaving the tie undone around my neck. As soon as my feet hit the floor, I toss my LV Jordans into the corner, raising a brow at Mom, who’s staring back at me with her hand on her hip.
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” I ignore her, rounding the corner to the kitchen. Her heels clunk across the cement floor, following my tail. I swing the fridge door out between us, slamming it closed to find her directly in front of me. “And I’m going to be late to a meeting, so is this important?”
She ignores me, leaning against the counter. She plays with the ring on her thumb. “Why’d you marry her? Was it your father that told you to?”
I scoop powder into my shaker. “No. It wasn’t.”
“Why’d you kill her?”
I screw on the lid to my shaker and lean back against the counter, shaking it in my hand. She knows I don’t have to answer to her. In fact, I don’t have to give her anything at all, but she’s never been good at giving up on the things she wants.
Unless she runs. Which I’m half-expecting her to at any minute.
“Because she had to die.”
Her eyes water, flying to mine. I wait. Wait to feel anything. A stab of guilt, shame, hurt for her. She’s my mother, and I know I love her. I’ve told myself that I love her all my life, so I know I do, but right now, in this moment—white noise.
“Priest!” she hisses, swiping at her cheek when a tear falls down. “I thought—I guess…”
“What?” My brow curves. “You thought I loved the same way you do? That she’d be different because I paid particular attention to her more than others?”
“Well yes!” Her eyes widen, and for a moment, the flames of the girl who’d captured the unattainable Bishop Vincent Hayes flare. “Priest, I refuse to believe that you’re going to take this path! This…destructive path that, by the way, will be far worse than even your grandfather’s.”
I sip on my shake. Red Velvet. “Mom, stop talking.”
“I loved Luna.” She sighs. “She had good in her, Priest. She was everything that you needed. She would have made a perfect counterpart for—”
“—Mother.”
Her eyes snap to mine, and I’m hoping for that same fire. That same hurt and anger.
She shakes her head, straightening her clothes. “I love you. I wished it didn’t have to be this way.”
As quickly as she arrived, she’s gone. The words poisoning the air longer than I want them to. Minutes pass before I finally ditch the shake, grab my kicks, and make my way into my garage.
I stare over the cars. The Hakosuka, GTR, JDM rides, before turning to the midnight beast hidden beneath the cover.
Not my usual, since I’ve been riding JDM since I could walk.
Maybe it is time.
Maybe.
The soles of my Jordans squeak against the marble floor when I bend down to rip off the cover, exposing the satin-black Maserati. The complete pair to her own.
Papa Roach screams about angels and insects as I swallow another gulp of the cheap whiskey. Strobe lights flicker, and I kick my leg out, hiding my smirk behind my glass when I study Thornhill’s Devil in the flesh. Not even the half-a-million-dollar suit can hide the rugged scar across his neck. Whoever tried to kill him didn’t do a very good job, and even worse still, I’ve heard she’s still alive.